


There Are No Words

by Rose_ryder



Series: Those We Cherish Universe [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist Dorian Pavus, Artist Lavellan, Canon Related, College AU, F/F, F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Modern Thedas, Multi, Multiple Relationships, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Solas is a Workaholic, Writer Lavellan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-04-24 02:09:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14345736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_ryder/pseuds/Rose_ryder
Summary: Arven and Ashanne Lavellan are freshman at Skyhold University and ready to make their mark on Thedas with all of their friends. While Ashanne juggles a long-term relationship with her workaholic boyfriend, Arven finds himself attracted to a certain mage from Tevinter and his intimidating but lovable qunari boyfriend.Modern Thedas AU and College AUCast is from my Those We Cherish Universe





	1. Prologue: The Writer and the Artist

The sound of typing filled the mostly empty apartment as words filled up Arven Lavellan’s word document. It was almost dinnertime, but the elvhen college student didn’t seem to notice. All he cared about were words. _His_ words. The fact that he made it into Skyhold University’s creative writing program alone spurred the young elf on as he concocted his latest prose for his Intro to Creative Writing course.

A knock sounded at the front door, breaking young Lavellan out of his trance, “Door’s open,” he called out, knowing that the only person who could be knocking at this time was his very forgetful twin sister.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” a female voice rang out as Ashanne Lavellan tumbled inside, “Forgot my keys again.”

Arven drifted his gaze from the laptop to the elvhen woman. If it weren’t for their genders, one would think Arven and his sister were identical. They both shared long blood-red hair and olive green eyes. Both were of typical elvhen stature, shorter than their human peers but taller than the dwarves like Varric Tethras, the graduate student teaching Arven’s creative writing class. Only those close to the twins could tell them apart. While Arven was borderline obsessed with writing about fanciful worlds and folktales, his female counterpart had stacks of sketchbooks filled with everything from sketches of her workaholic boyfriend to the view of the Frostback Mountains from Skyhold’s Magical Studies wing. Amongst other small things, the Lavellan twins were two perfectly fitting pieces in every sense of the word. They complemented each other as much as they matched.

“I know,” the male elf stated, “They’re on the kitchen table, you might want to think about either having a copy made to always keep in your bag or wear the thing around your neck.”

Ashanne walked up to the couch where Arven sat, crossed-leg with his laptop snug on his lap, and hugged his neck, “Duly noted, brother dearest.” Her eyes drifted to the screen filled with words, “What’s this one about?”

“I decided to write a short fiction based on the Fifth Blight,” Arven stated with a small grin. “I can only imagine what it was like, the old gods coming back and leading armies of darkspawn.”

“Why the fifth one?” his sister smiled, grabbing her most recent sketchbook off the coffee table and sitting next to him.

“You know why,” Arven chuckled, “It was the first time in centuries that all the races banded together, even if it was only in Ferelden.”

“It was pretty impressive,” Ashanne hummed, “I would have loved to meet the famous Hero herself. She went through so much.”

“That’s what I’m writing on. Mostly about how she sought out the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Creators, that must have been something to behold,” the elvhen boy sighed. He always had a penchant for historical events, especially those that nobody really knew the details of.

“You know,” his sister began as she sketched absentmindedly on her most recent project, “Solas was telling me the other day that he once went to the Ostagar ruins and saw Fade images of the two Wardens lighting the beacon during the Battle at Ostagar.”

Arven raised an eyebrow, “And where is he now?”

Solas was Ashanne’s aforementioned workaholic boyfriend. He was several years older than the twins, doing his doctoral studies in archaeology at Arbor Wilds University in southern Orlais. More often than not, the older elf was on some sort of research trip going as far as the Anderfels. Needless to say, the man was rarely around except on the holidays when they would all venture to Emerald Graves, where much of the twins’ family and clansmen currently lived.

“He sent me a letter last weekend saying he was currently in Starkhaven helping out some of the residential mages in excavation magic.”

“Hmmmm.”

Many of the twins’ conversations went like this when Solas came up. Arven had serious doubts when he and Ashanne started dating because Solas got so wrapped up in his work or in some Fade vision. Arven knew that Ashanne understood Solas more than he did because they were both mages with strong connections to what elves traditionally called the Beyond – everyone else in Thedas called it the Fade. Arven would rather call it a freaky realm of nightmares because nothing good came of his limited experience deep in the realm beyond the Veil.

“You’ll understand when you find someone important to you,” Ashanne softly smiled, as she always did. The older twin sat up, gracefully closing her book, “I’ll go start on dinner,” and drifted towards the small apartment kitchen.

Arven sighed and closed his laptop, setting it on the table beside him, “What’s on the menu tonight?”

“I was thinking pasta with a side of rosemary toast,” his twin called out, rusting through mismatched pots and pans the two received as off-to-college presents several months ago. It was rare for elves in Clan Lavellan to go so far away for college, almost unheard of. When the twins announced they were accepted into Skyhold with no intention of being swayed, their fellow clansmen were quick to pile up anything the twins might need from cookware to darkspawn repellant (which the twins accepted and secretly left in one of their secret grottos back home).

“By the way,” she suddenly interjected as the two ate their dinner at their small dinner table, “There’s going to be an exhibition gallery starting Friday in the grand hall.”

“Hmmm,” the elvhen boy murmured as he took another bite of pasta, “Do you have a display?”

“Of course I do,” Ashanne said matter-of-fact, “I’m the youngest student with works on display.”

“You always are.”

The girl smirks and points her fork at Arven, “Meaning you better come or I’ll sick Fen on you.”

At the sound of his name, the little ball of fluff tumbled out of the twins’ bedroom. Fen was a silver husky the twins adopted a couple years ago. Despite being around three years old, the pup was not much bigger than a beagle because he was the runt of the litter.

The twins watched the little pup, giggling as it tumbled over to the table. Ashanne reached down and picked up the little ball of fluff, “Isn’t that right, Fen? You’ll beat up mean ole’ Arven for me, won’t you?”

The pup yipped in agreement, making Arven roll his eyes despite the grin on his face, “You little traitor,” he glanced up at his twin sister, “If I do this, you better not complain next time my literature circle has a poetry night at Herald’s Rest.”

Ashanne replied with a lifted brow, “As long as Beka doesn’t try another horrendous poem about giant spiders and deepstalkers, I’m good.”

“He’s gotten better recently, probably because of his new girlfriend.”

Talking about their dwarven friend led the twins into various conversations involving their circle of companions. Some of them involved idle gossip about Beka Cadash and his girlfriend, Lace Harding the captain of the archery team. Others were about the twins’ friends from the nearby community college between Skyhold and Haven University.

Even though the two hadn’t been at Skyhold long, they found themselves surrounded by friends both near and far. First came their friends from other clans, like Feris Mahariel and his cousin Merrill. With Feris came an elf from Antiva named Zevran who worked as a barkeeper in downtown and Merrill led the Lavellan twins to meeting the entire Hawke clan, a family from central Fereldan that spent the last few years prowling around Kirkwall. Once classes began, the twins met people from their respective fields, like Varric the graduate student who turned out to be dating the elder Hawke sister or the young noble Elianna Trevelyan, who was in Ashanne’s arts history course.

No matter how difficult the path was to move so far away, Arven and Ashanne were happy they decided to make the journey together. Little did they know how much more there was to come, especially for the younger male twin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having writer's block for my main story, Those We Cherish, as I'm pushing through the remainder of the spring semester. This story randomly came to me a few weeks ago and I'm slowly turning it into a real thing. This may have shorter chapters than my other story, though I will do my best to keep up with both.
> 
> Thanks to all my readers and I would love to hear feedback!


	2. The Lost Qunari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of the exhibition and Arven has time to kill, that is until a new face ask for directions

Ashanne told her brother that the exhibition started at 6:30 in the grand hall, a huge event building on the far end of Skyhold campus, but she needed him there early to help set up. Despite the event being the first one in the year where freshman students were eligible for representing the different art departments, the exhibition was more of a showcase than anything. People could get a glimpse at the new artistic talent surfacing in the university while at the same time looking at the newest projects of the department’s upperclassmen. Ashanne explained that this exhibition was an annual event and oftentimes it was where artists found their door to the professional circuit. Apparently, a lot of scouts from companies and graduate programs came to see what the artists at Skyhold University had to offer.

The male elf’s classes on Friday ended at 3:00. Needing to find a way to kill time, he went to the university gardens to find a place to hang out until the event. The gardens were luscious and framed a small part of what used to be a grand castle called Skyhold – the fortress from centuries ago that the university was named after. Vines grasped at nearly all the remnants of walls in the garden, creating a sense of beauty and sorrow.

Arven went straight to the middle of the gardens to a beautiful willow tree – his favorite spot on the whole campus. From the tree, Arven could do most anything from write a story to watch the people bustling by. He especially loved it when there was a light breeze, which at that moment it was somewhat breezy.

With a contented sigh, Arven sat down at the base of the swaying tree and pulled out his notebook. Sure, computers were handy and he did most of his writing there, but there was something about writing his works on paper that made the elf feel like a writer. The scratch of pen or pencil on the surface and the small of fresh paper were some of his favorite things about writing because it felt so classic.

At a glance, it would seem impossible to spend so much time just writing for anyone else. For Arven, however, the time just passed by. He was more invested in his imagination than any sort of cramp he might get in his hands, though he actually spent about half the time daydreaming.

In fact, the elf was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice a looming figure approach me.

“Excuse me, are you a student here?”

The deep voice startled Arven, causing his head to snap up. Standing over him was a large qunari wearing loose jeans and a black polo shirt. He had black tattoos curling down large muscular arms and an eyepatch covering his left eye. If Arven was honest, the qunari was as handsome and sexy as he was intimidating.

The fumbling man couldn’t find the words to speak, answering his sudden companion with a meek nod.

The qunari gave a small smile, “Would you happen to know where Wintersend Hall is?”

Wintersend was the name of the event building where the exhibition was being held. Looking down at his watch, Arven noticed that it was a little past five and started gathering his things.

Standing up, the elf gave a wary look to the qunari, who was about twice as tall as him and a lot broader.

_Genetics, I suppose_ , the elf thought to himself before gesturing for the man to follow him.

“You don’t need to take me there, just give me directions. I wouldn’t want to bother you,” the qunari responded with an earnest tone.

Arven opened and closed his mouth a couple times before saying, “I’m…headed there too. Two birds, one stone.”

The man smiled, “Ah, so you can talk.”

“Of course I can, I’m just not good at it,” Arven mumbled in response, cheeks burning as he walked off, hearing the footsteps of his companion close behind.

The qunari caught up to him in a few steps, “So, what makes someone like you interested in the art exhibition?”

“I know a couple of the artists personally. Didn’t have much of a choice. You?”

“I’m the same, more or less,” the giant man said with a small smirk, “I’m Iron Bull, by the way. Most just call me Bull.”

_“Iron Bull?”_ Arven raised a brow, “What an odd name.”

Bull gave the elf a smile, “That seems to be the consensus, but I like it. Chose it for myself and everything.”

“Oh yeah, I guess the qunari don’t really do names.”

“Not in the Qun, at least.”

The qunari people have lived thousands of years under a very strict doctrine known as the Qun, hence the name qunari. Nobody knows how the civilization has survived so long with the same rules, but people don’t really question it either. The qunari that disagree often leave, becoming what the Qun calls “Tal-Vashoth,” though that’s just for the hostile ones. The non-hostiles are typically referred to as just “Vashoth,” like Alak, a friend from the nearby community college.

“Anyways,” the Iron Bull shrugged off the topic, “What’s your name?”

“Arven,” the elf replied plainly, “Nothing fanciful, but it’s mine.”

Bull smiled, “It works.”

The two carried on in silence the rest of the way. Arven watched the qunari out of the corner of his eyes one or twice. He scanned his walking companion discretely, as if trying to figure out the best words to describe the horned man. No words came to mind. Iron Bull was as large and muscled as one would expect from a qunari, but his friendly nature took the elf by surprise. Most of the qunari that Arven had come in contact with were very aloof and intimidating, granted he rarely met qunari people. It was strange enough how many dwarves and humans the elf had come to know in the few months he’s attended Skyhold.

“Here we are,” Arven stopped in front of the event building, “Wintersend Hall.”

Before Bull could reply, someone called out, “There you are! The event opens in an hour! What took you so long?”

Arven turned to the source of the voice and froze. Walking towards them was a human with tanned skin, dark hair, and a small curled mustache. He was probably one of the most handsome people the elf had seen, in addition to the qunari waving at said man.

“Sorry, kadan, got a bit lost,” Bull smiled as the human approached them.

The man smiled at Bull with an affection that Arven recognized in almost every couple he’d ever known.

The elf felt a stab in his chest, though he could hardly fathom why, and the elf suddenly felt like an intruder, “I’m going to go inside.”

Bull and his partner looked towards Arven, as if remembering that it wasn’t just the two of them.

“And you might be…” the human trailed off.

Bull clapped a hand on Arven’s shoulder, “He helped me find my way.”

Arven lightly blushed and nodded uncomfortably, ducking away from the force of the qunari’s hand. Bull raised an eyebrow at the action, but decided against pointing it out.

The elf rubbed the back of his neck, “I just happened to be headed here anyways.”

“Ah,” the human replied simply and reached out his hand, “Well, thank you anyways. I’m Dorian Pavus, one of the artists here.”

Arven stared at his hand for a few moments before gripping it in a light handshake, mumbling his name before stepping back and turning to rush into the building.

Dorian and Bull watched the smaller man dash away and turned to each other.

“Well, that was interesting,” Dorian finally spoke after they couldn’t see the redhead anymore.

The Iron Bull simply chuckled and wrapped an arm around the human man’s waist, “Agreed, now let’s go inside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any readers of my main story: I promise I haven't abandoned Those We Cherish! My family moved mid-May and my summer semester classes started at the beginning of June. The slow progress is mainly due to the fact that I'm having to replay parts of DA2 to write the rest of the prologue chapters (two left and then onto Inquisition!).
> 
> I'm trying to stick as close to the culture of Thedas as possible, making some tweaks to fit the setting but otherwise keeping them as is. Such as Skyhold still existing (and it once being the Inquisition stronghold), but now being ruins that the university chose to build around and incorporate.
> 
> Also, the college life depicted is largely based on my own experiences (though I'm only minoring in English, not majoring) and I'm loosely basing the exhibition on my university's research symposiums (since I have experience in one of those).


	3. Of Art and Banter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arven arrives at the exhibition to help set up, encountering friends and meddling sisters alike

Ashanne told her brother earlier in the week that the exhibit’s theme was nature, the wilder the better. Of course, that meant that she had a distinct advantage in the showcase since the twins were practically raised in the wilderness. The Dalish may not be as nomadic as they once were, but they did live more like their ancestors than most other races.

Walking in, the first thing that the elf noticed was how the hall was decorated. The whole place was designed to look like outdoor landscapes with different sections looking like places like the Frostback Mountains, Emerald Graves, and even the deserts of the Western Approach. Most of the decorations looked handmade, probably by upperclassmen in the art departments.

Arven started up to the information table where a couple familiar faces presented themselves.

“Hey Arven,” a chipper female dwarf grinned.

The elf gave her and the human next to her a smile, “Hey Coryn, Thomas. How’d you two get roped into this?”

Coryn Aeducan was an older student entering her fifth year at Skyhold with her crazy double major in political science and linguistics while Thomas Amell was a graduate student in the architecture department. The twins knew Coryn through their close friend Ellie Trevelyan, a freshman from the Free Marches’ nobility studying history. Thomas was the older brother of Clara, a well-known fourth year student from the magic studies division of Skyhold University.

“My colleagues and I helped set up the monstrous display. I ended up sticking around when I heard the department needed help,” Thomas playfully rolled his eyes. He never could ignore people needing assistance, the man had a heart of gold.

“And I just wanted the volunteer hours for my resume. I’ll look more credible in my family if I have my volunteer cord at graduation,” Coryn sighed. She was the oldest child of the Aeducans, the current rulers of Orzammar. The Aeducan family only recently returned to the throne of the dwarven kingdom some three hundred years ago or so, having been dethroned during the Fifth Blight.

Arven chuckled, “Still getting grief about being next in line despite being female?”

“You know it,” Coryn slouched back, “It really doesn’t help that Daivaris used to be casteless.”

“I thought the caste system was more flexible now,” Thomas stated with curiosity.

“Oh, it is,” the female dwarf flourished, “however, the especially pompous families don’t like the idea that the heir to the throne is female and engaged to someone born to the lowest class. Like I give a nug’s whisker about what those old farts think.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, the heir to the dwarven kingdom,” Thomas jeers sarcastically.

Coryn replies with a simple eye roll and turns back to Arven, “Ash is currently setting up near the back in the area decorated like a forest.”

With a nod towards his friends, Arven made his way to the back of the hall, passing by numerous students either setting up or just waiting for the exhibit to actually open. The male elf recognized some of the other artists such as Cole, a quiet, not-quite-human male who did his collages with what looked like pieces of plants and even small insects. He stopped, however, when a certain exhibit caught his eye.

The section that stopped him was in the middle of the hall. The paintings hadn’t been hung yet, but they leaned against the divider wall with the picture facing the elf. They were traditional paintings, looking to be made with acrylics or oil paints, though it was the picture itself that stood out to him. At a glance, the images fit in with the gallery’s theme. They depicted the countryside, most likely somewhere in northern Thedas by the vegetation and the mild weather.

“Well, hello again.”

The sudden intrusion made Arven jump. Turning his head, the elf came face to face with the handsome human and qunari from earlier.

The speaker, the human who called himself Dorian, raised a brow and chuckled, “Did you just squeak? How adorable!”

Arven’s face burned in embarrassment, “Um…I uh…”

“Something catch your eye, Boss?”

 _Boss?_ The elf gave Bull his own raised brow at the random nickname, “Something like that.” He then turned to Dorian, “Did you paint these?”

The human stared at Arven, slightly taken aback, “Why, yes I did. Why?”

The elf shrugged his shoulders, “No reason. You’re very skilled,” he then stared at the painting for a moment, “Where are you from, by chance?”

“I was born and raised in Minrathous, the capital of Tevinter,” Dorian answered, still curious as to what the copper-headed male was aiming at.

“Ah,” Arven mumbled, “That explains it.”

Bull watched Arven with amusement as the man stood deep in thought, “Explains what, exactly?”

The elf looked at the qunari through the corner of his eye and shrugged, “I figured it was somewhere around there. The painting just felt like it was made by someone without much experience in the wild.”

Dorian gaped at Arven, reminding the elf of a fish, “I’m not denying your statement, but how much would experience actually reflect in this scenario?”

The elf opened his mouth to answer, only to be interrupted by a loud crash followed by a string of elvhen curses, “Oh no.”

Recognizing the feminine voice, Arven rushed off, not realizing the human and qunari following after him. What awaited the trio was a familiar female elf crumpled on the ground with a rather large canvas held above her and a fallen ladder on top of her legs.

“Ash!” Arven called, hurrying over and pulling the ladder off his twin, “What happened?”

Ashanne sat up, tilting the canvas to lean against the wall, “What does it look like?” she sarcastically replied, “I was trying to put this painting up and the ladder fell over while I was on it because _someone_ wasn’t here to hold the ladder for me!”

Ashanne had a tendency to get cranky when something like this happened, which was often because she was as clumsy as a newborn halla.

Sighing, the male twin held out a hand, which Ashanne reluctantly grabbed and hauled herself up, “Well, I’m here now so let’s get you set up.”

“So I’m assuming this is what you meant by experience in the wild?”

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Arven jumped at the smooth male voice coming from behind him. He turned his head to the persistent duo and answered with a small nod.

“Oh, hello!” Ashanne gave her brother a mischievous grin and turned to Bull and Dorian, “Has he been bugging you?”

“Ash!” Arven whined.

Dorian gave a chuckle, “Not at all, he’s a very interesting fellow. Soft-spoken, except to observe how my pieces show my limited experience in _true wilderness_.”

The girl chuckled, “I’m not surprised, Arven is very observant. Not to mention, we kind of _are_ the prime examples of a bit too much experience in nature.”

“And Arven is still here, _listening_ to everything,” Arven complains in a matter-of-fact tone with an uncharacteristic pout painting his face.

With a curious smile, Dorian replied, “Is that so? Pray tell, what constitutes as too much experience in this case?”

Arven shared a glance with his sister and sighed, pulling his long copper hair behind his obviously elvhen ears.

Seeing his partner continue to be confused, Bull stepped forward, “I thought the Dalish didn’t like their people going too far from the clan.”

“They don’t,” Arven curtly replied.

Ashanne lightly shoved her brother, “What my dear brother means is that we had to practically beg our Keeper, the leader of our clan, to let us come here. Going to university isn’t uncommon, though most Dalish tend to go to either a college led by other elves or one near the clan. We aren’t the only ones though; our friend Feris is from one of the northern clans and he’s a member of the History department.”

“Basically,” Arven sighed, tired of being ignored, “Our experience comes from the fact that we were raised in the wild, so to speak. Ash’s art tends toward accenting this because we _lived_ it.”

“And some of your best writing comes from elements in our lives, especially in the clans,” Ashanne added with a smile, “it’s not often mentioned how proud the Dalish are about their lives. We’re still mainly self-sufficient, though most of the clans have given up the complete nomadic lifestyle ever since the Circles stopped forcing our mages into their establishments.”

“You’re a writer?” the human artist questioned with a hint of enthusiasm, though for what reason the male elf could hardly fathom.

_That’s what he got from this conversation?_

“I figured as much,” Bull commented, “You seemed the type when we met.”

Arven raised a brow and places a hand on his hip, “First, I am a student in the literature department. Second, what do you mean by I _seemed the type_?”

The qunari’s eyes widened and he raised his hands in surrender, “I don’t mean anything bad, Boss. You _were_ writing something when I approached you, not to mention writers tend to be on the quiet side with strangers.”

“Not to mention,” Dorian suddenly butted in, “this wonderful man used to be Ben-Hassreth, thus he can read just about anything about anyone.”

 _Ben-Hassreth huh?_ The male elf sensed a very interesting story, especially since the man used the past tense. Also…did he call Arven ‘Boss’ _again???_

Ashanne cackled, “ _Quiet,_ he was _quiet_? Wait until you get to know him. My baby brother can be a chatterbox when he wants to be. Especially when he’s lecturing.”

“Fenhedis Ashanne,” Arven sighed with exasperation, “I’m only a few minutes younger, and I only lecture because _someone_ always forgets their keys!”

“Hey, I don’t always forget them!”

With a pointed look, the younger twin held up a very familiar looking key with a charm in the shape of a wolf that his sister left on the kitchen counter that morning.

Ashanne snatched the key from her brother, laughing half-heartedly as her face turned red, “Point taken. Now, let’s get this show on the road. Nice to meet you two.”

As if to escape her embarrassment, the art student began stuffing random materials into her brother’s arms. Arven replied to the action by giving the two men an apologetic smile.

“Good luck with your stuff,” the elf told the two men, mildly ignoring his flustered twin, “I meant what I said back there, you have talent.”

“Yes, well,” Dorian huffed proudly, “I wouldn’t have a spot here if I wasn’t somewhat skilled.”

Before the Tevinter man could think up something else to say, Iron Bull pulled on his companion’s upper arm, “Yeah yeah, you’re amazing kadan. Good to meet you, Boss. See you around?”

Arven blinked and nodded, “Um, sure I guess,” though not entirely certain whether the handsome qunari was being serious or just being polite.

With that, the duo strode back towards where Arven remembered the man had his own display up, at least he thought that was the direction.

“Ahem,” Arven turned to his sister, who was impatiently waiting with an impish grin and a sly eye gesture towards the retreating men, “Sooo, those two are…?”

“Shut up,” the brother replied with a snap, “It’s none of your business.”

With a shrug, Ashanne turned towards her still dismantled display,” Let’s get this all set up, ay _Boss_?”

Instead of an answer, Arven simply threw a dust rag at his sister’s face and got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote this with the last chapter, hence the lack of a substantial summary. I am trying to officially establish a rhythm of one chapter here, then one chapter on my main story, so on so forth. I want to post something monthly, but with college and everything plans are subject to change.  
> Thomas is an OC I added for my Amell's story in the Those We Cherish universe, I'll go more into him later on in Those We Cherish and possibly a spin off about my Amell. Coryn Aeducan is my character based on the Dwarven Noble Origin for DAO and Daivaris is based onthe Dwarven Commoner Origin. I have a story planned for them, though once again these are mainly minor characters in my main story Those We Cherish.  
> Fell free to let me know what you think! Leave kudos and comments and make sure to bookmark both my stories! Those We Cherish is essentially the foundation for There Are No Words, after all.


	4. Quick Author Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick update to what's going on with me

Hi everyone, just though I'd give a quick message because I know I haven't posted anything in MONTHS despite wanting to do bi-monthly releases.

I have by no means abandoned my works. I actually think about them a lot all the time and I have a decent outline for the future. That being said, I feel terrible that I haven't posted anything in several months. I meant to try and get something up by the end of December for Those We Cherish, but I encountered complications.

I'm a college senior with a major, two minors, working on honors and I'm an exec in two clubs. I am so busy that I don't get much breathing room to go on my late hour writing binges. On top of that. I just finished my English minor and I am so burnt out from creative writing that I couldn't get as much written as I wanted to over Winter Break. On top of everything, I have major anxiety issues that have made me question whether or not to continue because I don't know if people like my writing. Those are the basic bits of my personal life causing issues.

On my stories, I am most dedicated to Those We Cherish and a lot of this story builds off of the personalities in TWC. I am hitting a huge roadblock with my main story so I'm kind of in writing limbo right now for There Are No Words, which is an AU of my TWC cast. I need to get my thoughts together on TWC in order to remember everything for this story, which I do intend to continue. Just maybe at a slower pace than planned. My characters mean a lot to me, so keep rooting for Arven, Ashanne, and their insane crew!

In conclusion, I have not abandoned my stories. I just have a lot going on and I'm a little burnt out. To my readers, thank you for your support and please let me know what you think about my approaches to the story and the characters. I'll be up and running as soon as I can. There is a chance I might do some oneshot fics before, but those would be test runs to get me back to my Those We Cherish Universe.


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